Process
by fleeting.ideas
Summary: Breaking Kelly out of her strange hypnosis from her strange reflection, the door opened. The old Kelly wished it were Ryan, the new one knew it never would be. [Well, it definitely wasn’t Ryan]


disclaimer: I really wouldn't be funny enough for such a good comedy. And I like Angela enough that I'd not be so much inclined as to pick Dwight for her "gentleman friend" So, no, I don't own it.

summary: Breaking Kelly out of her strange hypnosis from her strange reflection, the door opened. The old Kelly wished it were Ryan; the new one knew it never would be. [Well, it definitely wasn't Ryan Season 3 finale, could you tell?

Kelly just stood there, staring. At first, she had been angry. Her first word_ (What?_) since the new stage in her life had come out bitter. Not confused like she was, every gear churning. Not heartbroken, like she was now, though that was how the same word came out the second time, soon thereafter. She started her new life with a (metaphorical) slap and crying; very much the same as she had started the first one, the one he ruined.

Kelly didn't think of this as she was running to the bathroom. Kelly didn't think at all for the time being, fight or flight kicked in. _It's over, Kelly. It's really really over. Ryan hurt you. Ryan can't be trusted. Get away from Ryan._ Kelly never did have much fight in her.

She had always known, deep down, that she wasn't like everyone else. She knew they were older and more mature. They didn't care about celebrities, didn't plan how they wanted their lives to go. They were _grey_. It seemed, most of the time, they didn't love either, not most of them anyway.

Did Meredith know the feeling of being blissfully, undeniably in love? Had Kevin ever wanted to run to the top of their small building and scream at the top of his lungs that he dared to _love_, dared to _feel_? Did Dwight... well, had Dwight ever even had sex? And if so, with _who_?

She also knew, though this part wasn't so deep, she knew it through out her body, felt it course through her soul: she was so much more alive, she was happier. She wrapped her life into one she shared with strangers; people she'd never meet. She dressed in colorful clothing, wore things that made her look pretty. She knew that she had had something real, something she cared about.

He broke it. Part of her wanted to know what she had done wrong; most of her knew that it wasn't be her fault. It just couldn't be her fault.

But thought didn't reach Kelly that day. Thought would stay far away from the girl for days, as she sat at home, staring at the old chick flicks she loved to watch. They were of the same make and mold, and she knew them well. She turned them off with exactly fifteen minutes left. She couldn't see the happy ending, couldn't bear to know that Mr. True Love was out there, and he was just avoiding Kelly.

Before that, before all that, Kelly was in the bathroom. She stared at the reflection, orphaned in the mirror. It wasn't her, it just couldn't be. Hair disheveled, falling out of the sparkly clip she had gotten from him last Christmas; her favorite, naturally. Mascara, so dutifully worn and painfully put on every day (she never had been very good at it) worn for him, streaking down her cheeks. Her blouse, her new blouse, ruined from the stains of tears and sobs and sadness. She was allergic to sadness, definitely.

Breaking her out of her strange hypnosis from the strange reflection, the door opened. The old Kelly wished it were Ryan; the new one knew it never would be.

Who would go comfort the girl? Kelly had been a hard thing to miss; everyone had known something had gone wrong. The annex sat at the back of the office, the sound of her sobs had echoed maniacally through the building, through Scranton, shaking the middle of the road workers to the core. What could a sweet girl like that do to deserve this utter despair?

They corrected themselves; it was Kelly. The girl who cried when Ryan forgot their plans. The girl whose main events were things she watched on TV and read about in trashy magazines. The girl who annoyed them to no end.

Surely it was something silly, something they shouldn't be bothered with. It must be some stupid thing that only Kelly would break into anguish sobs over. It was okay they weren't going to help; it must be.

But still, someone would need to comfort the girl. Should they draw straws, perhaps? Gather in a small clump, disqualifying those who would do more bad then good (Creed, mainly), and reach blindly to some designated container-hand, secretly praying they held a long straw. Or maybe it would be better to gather Michael's women, they had faced Jan, couldn't they bear the frivolous object of Kelly's sadness?

No one moved, and they kept to themselves.

Who _would_ make the first move, the noble soul?

She weighed the options in her mind; she liked to know how things would happen. What would occur, when, and the meticulous details. This was a rather upsetting motion in an already off-balance day.

The men were out, there was no way one of them would work it out. Kevin couldn't see past accounting most days, and he would not help, he very rarely did. Oscar wouldn't know how to handle himself, though he would offer a kind word later.

Dwight couldn't be bothered to go look for such a thing, the businessman. He was successful, if not a little inept in interpersonal matters. Michael wouldn't notice for days on end, and he would probably move on to throw the poor girl into a relapse. Michael was never of much worth, in anything, at anytime.

Creed was a mess; no one wanted to open _that_ pack of worms. Stanley, despite having a daughter, had no experience with such things, best not to get him involved. He did look up with a strangely tender look though, and he was simply staring at his crossword now. Odd, very odd.

Toby may do something, but by the time he would work up the courage, he wouldn't be needed. Someone else perhaps, will be overcome by guilt and take it upon themselves, or she may have already left, or died, considering Toby's courage.

Andy could help, and he would, in his own way. But that most likely involved researching some girl power songs on the Internet, harmonizing in his mind and making goofy hand movements.

Jim had sprinted off with Pam as soon as Kelly had cried, probably with good intentions, admittedly, going out to buy something to cheer her up, as they had with Kevin with the faux skin cancer fiasco.

And, as for the women, they didn't seem as if they'd be great help either.

Karen was gone, hadn't returned from New York yet and there were of course rumors that she never really would. Just as well, she spent too much time hating this office and hating that she was here.

Phyllis was hopeless; it was almost quitting time by now, so Meredith must have dipped into her illicit flask and be entirely spent and… drunk by now. Good heavens.

It would appear, as time went by, that Ryan was the problem here, therefore quite excluding him from being the solution.

And, well, whom did _that_ leave them with? It would appear that she-- _Angela_-- would have to care for the poor girl!

Angela suppressed a sigh, closed her eyes and centered herself, and began a quiet pep talk. She willed herself to remember that while she couldn't stand Kelly, it was much worse when Kelly was with Ryan. Forced herself to theorize that she would be in there, at the most, only several moments before Kelly rushed off. Michael, if he ever noticed, wouldn't mind in the slightest that she was gone. Angela would suggest this. She doubled checked that she had a bottle of hand-sanitizer back at her desk for when she came back (tears _are_, after all, a bodily fluid) and grabbed the box of tissues at the corner of the filing cabinet.

It was almost like going into a battlefield. Except a good deal worse for men.

Fighting was easy, emotions were hard.

And maybe Angela wasn't great at emotions, maybe for the most part they weren't seen (_oh, but they were there, always present and throbbing_), but she was a woman, and she was a Christian, darn it.

She'd do just fine, thank you very much. Miss Kelly Kapoor, recently singled, was nothing that Angela couldn't handle. Not at all; nonsense.

Somewhere between the suiting up for war and nodding her head decisively, she found herself at the bathroom door. Oh, dear, the sobs were heard from throughout the break room.

With one final deep breath, she pushed open the door.

- - -

"Kelly?"

She turned her head; a good start. Angela stood stiffly an even foot away from Kelly, and placed her hand on the poor girl's shoulder and petted her upper arm. It was just another cat, really, rather like the one in her calendar (the month of June, with the bright pink flowers and playful pose).

"You are going to be just fine."

Sniff.

"I mean, he was never any good for you anyway."

Blink. "Wh-what?"

"Ryan. That _is_ what this is all about it, correct?"

"Uh, yeah. How did you…?"

A slight, but present smirk. "Nothing really gets to you the way he does."

Kelly broke down crying, turning into Angela and her tentative, stiff embrace. She began to slowly rub her hand up and down Kelly's back in short strokes. Angela just kept saying to herself that this was the good thing to do, but no, it wouldn't happen again, and maybe this wasn't half as bad as she had thought it would be. Maybe.

"You are going to be just fine. It may… take a few days, more or less, but you will be. If it wasn't _supposed_ to happen this way, well then, it wouldn't have, would it?" A risen eyebrow.

"I uh… I guess not."

Kelly composed herself, considerably, another large snuffle and straightened her blouse. And, upon Angela's forceful example took several deep breaths. Their eyes stayed connected the entire time.

"Good. Well. Why don't you clean yourself up, and take the rest of the, er, day off." Angela wasn't _used_ to being comforting, she was almost mean at times, so Kevin seemed to tell her. She didn't necessarily _like _it, but, well, if she wasn't supposed to be like this then she wouldn't. Taking her own advice, it certainly soothed the pestering doubts.

"Umm… okay. That doesn't sound too bad. Maybe I'll just stop at the store and pick up a new movie. And, ooh! _Finally_ a new chance to try that Ben and Jerry's ice cream." Angela promptly turned on her heels, rolling her eyes once out of view.

When the door was halfway open, she paused upon hearing, "Thanks, Angela. I… needed that. And, oh my God, you were really pretty good at it. For you and all."

"Don't get any chick flicks, Kelly," Angela returned, her calculating and sharp voice back. Though, this time, a small smile budding on her cheeks.

It really wasn't _that_ bad. And maybe Kelly had some redeeming qualities. You know, when she was forlorn and quiet and heartbroken.

author's note: How was it? Technically this was finished in the first couple days of September, so it probably shouldn't go towards my summer goal, but oh well. I wanted to say I had completed it (: If you have the time, I'd love a review, please and thank you. (Or don't, and in that case, thanks for reading this until the end)


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